Shakespeare came out onto the stage to calm the crowd, but I ran forward, waving my hands. “Get out, everyone out—especially the ghosts!”
He saw me, decided to take me at my word; if you can’t trust your private detective, who can you trust? He spoke into the amplification system. “Everyone, please remain calm—and run like hell!”
The crowd ran like hell.
Sheyenne pulled herself up in front of her brother, outraged. “You’ve done stupid things in your life, Travis, but what do you think you’re doing?”
“A good deed—and you weren’t supposed to be here!” He backed toward the sound-system bank, holding a remote control pad that I guessed would activate the pulsing generators built into the speakers.
“You want to disintegrate the ghosts in the audience?” Sheyenne placed herself directly in front of him, drifting just out of his reach. “Well, I’m here—go on, do it if you hate unnaturals so much. I’m one of them.”
“Just leave, sis!” His voice trembled. “This is something I’ve gotta do. The senator saved me when I needed it most.”
“You wouldn’t need to be saved if you didn’t keep screwing up! Go ahead, throw the switch, if that’s what you really want. You’ve always resented me for being practical and successful. You can’t stand it, can you? Do you think your life will be better by disintegrating all these innocent ghosts? Will your conscience be clear?”
Travis wrestled with himself; his lower lip trembled. It wasn’t exactly the approach I would have used, but Sheyenne knew her brother better than I did. She stayed right there, glaring at him.
“I can’t disintegrate my own sister,” he finally said, dropping the trigger remote.
I took matters into my own hands, just in case Sheyenne’s little pep talk backfired. While they faced off, I got to the speaker and, using my zombie strength (which is actually overrated), tore out the electrical cables connected to the sound system. A yelp of feedback spilled out of the speakers before they went silent.
Squad cars pulled up by the Greenlawn gates. McGoo led a charge of blue-uniformed policemen into the cemetery where they careened into the mob of fleeing vampires and zombies. In the swirl of evacuating unnaturals, I caught a glimpse of Edgar Allan trying to hand out business cards; he nearly got trampled underfoot.
When he saw the approaching cops, Travis’s eyes widened, then he broke down. “I don’t want to go to jail. Senator Balfour told me he’d set me up with a new life and a new job far from here, if only I’d do this one thing! But I . . . I couldn’t throw the switch, even before I saw you, sis. I swear, I wouldn’t have done it!”
I didn’t believe that part, but Sheyenne looked torn. “You’re part of a plot that would have destroyed hundreds of ghosts. We can’t just ignore that.”
“Yes, you can,” he insisted. “It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you, I promise. Just give me five minutes. Let me slip out of here, and you’ll never see me again.” He looked pleadingly at me, but found no help there, so he turned back to his sister.
The sirens were still wailing from the police units. McGoo and the others pushed toward the stage, fighting their way through a tangle of mummies and witches as they shouted for the ghosts to evacuate.
I glanced at Sheyenne. “If it were up to me, I’d strangle him. But it’s your call. He’s your brother.”
Her expression softened. “Get the hell out of here, Travis—and do it before I change my mind.”
Her brother bolted behind the Globe Theatre stage and fled; he was gone by the time the police reached us. Robin finally came up to the stage, her voice hoarse from yelling so much. “We did it! Everyone’s safe.”
McGoo was panting. “You sure know how to throw a party, Shamble—and don’t you dare tell me it was a false alarm.”
“If you check these speakers, you’ll find two high-powered ectoplasmic defibrillators. One of Balfour’s creeps intended to vaporize all the ghosts in the audience, but we stopped him in time. I tore out the wires.”
“Did you catch the senator’s man?” McGoo asked. “We can wrap this whole thing up if we get a confession!”
“He got away,” Sheyenne said.
As McGoo’s expression fell, I added, “We might have enough evidence here to nail Balfour anyway. Harvey Jekyll built and sold the defibrillators, and if we can tie these to him, find a purchase order, compare the serial numbers, you can bring charges.”
“It’s enough to cause a scandal, even if we don’t get the senator in jail,” McGoo said.
“Maybe we can still connect him with the bomb at the brothel,” Sheyenne said.
“And I have dozens more suits and injunctions to file,” Robin said.
“You keep filing your legal challenges. I’ll take a more direct approach.” I looked at Sheyenne. “Will you forgive me for going back to the Full Moon one more time?”
“Only if you promise me it’s business.”
“You know the answer to that.”
Chapter 47
Nobody was surprised when gaunt and shadow-faced Senator Balfour gave an emergency press conference early the next morning. In his ponderous voice he denied any knowledge of the unfortunate plot during the Shakespeare in the Dark performance. His frumpy wife, looking equally lifeless and unenthused, stood at his side, supportive in the most minimal way possible.
I had no interest in listening to the speech. I didn’t care about the man’s excuses, nor did I believe him, although I did find it ironic that he somehow managed to label the accusations against him as “unnatural harassment.”
I hoped I would get what I needed at the Full Moon and wrap up this whole mess.
Without a warrant, McGoo would never be able to see Madam Neffi’s client records—and getting such a warrant would be problematic, since his own watch commander was one of her customers, as I knew from my previous glimpse of the files. I, however, had a close connection with the mummy madam, and I hoped she would cut me a break. Given Neffi’s vendetta against Senator Balfour, maybe she would let me look through her surveillance images and client files from the night of the bomb threat on the chance that I’d recognize one of Balfour’s minions. Perhaps the guy-in-tie or one of the demonstrators who had marched on the adult novelty shop.
The withered madam was distraught when I arrived; her long, clawlike fingers fluttered about, showing her nervousness. “It’s been one nightmare after another! Considering this is the world’s oldest profession, you’d think we’d have the kinks worked out by now.”
“Don’t some customers want the kinks?” I said.